I never have trouble sleeping.
But last night … last night was Kindergarten Eve and it was a rough one. Not so much because my son was tossing or turning, he wasn’t. Not so much because he was worried and stressed out, he wasn’t.
It was me. I was the problem.
I was anxious and feeling uneasy. I was having an attack of the neurotic mom syndrome. I had worries. At first it was little things, like waking up late and then having him be late for school, or getting toothpaste on his first-day-of-school shirt. Then it got to the point where I worried about the teacher sitting him next to the kid who ate crayons, no offense to the kid who ate crayons. I worried about jackass kid bullies. I know that as a mom I shouldn’t say jackass kids, but I know you know what I’m talking about. You’ve seen them out there wreaking havoc on weary moms and deans of discipline. The kind of kids that need a scared-straight moment. I worried about bathroom breaks. I worried he wouldn’t make it to the bathroom in time and he’d be the kid who peed in his pants on the first day of kindergarten, marking him for the rest of his elementary school life. Yeah … that was me late at night.
The 6:15 a.m. wake-up alarm was rough. But I managed to survive the morning rush and got to school in plenty of time to avoid the crazy mom minivan-SUV traffic jam. And the fact that I found parking and didn’t have to walk five blocks to the entrance … dude … I think that’s what flipped the switch and I remembered to breathe. The early morning seemed peaceful enough to ease my anxiety and be fully present for the first-day-of-kindergarten-you’re-going-to-do-great speech. And it was …